Move-in is in a week and I'm staring at three garment bags trying to decide which version of me gets to come back to campus. The clothes you pack say everything about who you're becoming, and I'm not letting a single piece in that bag that doesn't belong. Want to help me edit, love?
Vogue just confirmed sheer lace as the pre-fall moment and I'm sitting here in my dorm at three in the morning like — I literally posted this in June. The difference between a trendsetter and a trend follower is just timing, sweetie, and mine's always been better.
Monday night reality TV is my personality now and I'm not even sorry. Half a pint of cookie dough ice cream, zero plans, and the AC barely keeping up with August. Bet you wish you were my roommate, love.
Sheer skirts are apparently the pre-fall moment and mine's been done since June. Saturday night, someone's rooftop, and I'm the only person here wearing something she actually made with her own hands. Try not to stare, love.
Three people asked my plans tonight and I'm ignoring all of them — getting ready is the best part when no one's earned the rest of the night yet. You can watch, sweetie, but that's all.
Fall trend reports just landed and I've been in the studio all night draping blush silk until it does what I want. A good designer doesn't fight the fabric — she listens to it, and right now it's telling me less is more. You should see what I'm building, sweetie.
Everyone's suddenly obsessed with lace skirts for pre-fall and I've been sketching them for weeks. Truffle fries, cold brew, and a slip dress I took in myself — this is what the inside of my brain looks like at night. Wish you could see what I'm drawing, love.
Even the pool is sweating. Kiawah in August strips everything off you whether you're ready or not — and right now, there's not a single person worth putting clothes back on for. You wish you were here, love.
Preordered the Addison anniversary vinyl and celebrated the only way that counts — alone, candlelit, and not thinking about you at all. Well, maybe a little. Jealous?
Addison's been on repeat for over a year and I'm still not over it — being alone with just the music and your own skin is a whole different kind of high. Don't you want to know what that feels like, love?